


To See Him Smile

by actuallyjustamemer



Category: Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Holland is a ticklish baby, I tagged this as F/M but really their relationship is more platonic than anything, Ojka is implied to be one too, Tickling, it's totally open to interpretation though, minor spoilers for AGOS, ojka just wants hol to smile ok he needs happiness, this is self indulgent trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 00:59:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10321913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actuallyjustamemer/pseuds/actuallyjustamemer
Summary: Ojka just wanted to see her king smile for once, by any means, no matter how childish. It helped that her king was deathly ticklish.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _"Ojka knew the benefits of adaptation, and with every passing day became more cognizant of the fact that His Majesty was desperately trying not to adapt, to stay the way he had been when they'd met and maybe probably even before then. To say that she didn't like this would be an understatement. She despised it, knew that the world was changing and he needed to change too. He needed to show some damn emotion for once, and if not in public, then just to her."_

Ojka stared out the window of the palace, straight at the Sijlt, whose ice was melting. It wasn't a very visible change, because true change took time. The fall of Black London didn't happen in a day, after all. (Well, ok, it had, but that was besides the point).

She was still in awe of the fact that, even though it wasn't perceptible, the ice was actually _thawing_. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. Ojka could sense the new magic, feel the way it brushed past her in the wind, or how it leapt to meet her in the small bit of water that was peeking through the thick iciness of the Sijlt, or how when she fell to the ground while practicing with her knives, the earth throbbed and pulsed against her, the magic inside seeming desperate to be free as it was in another London.

The only thing that hadn't changed, she realized, was His Majesty. When they'd met two months prior, he'd been solemn, grim, and his voice held no emotion whatsoever. Now, he was solemn, grim, and his voice held no emotion whatsoever. 

Ojka knew the benefits of adaptation, and with every passing day became more cognizant of the fact that His Majesty was desperately trying not to adapt, to stay the way he had been when they'd met and maybe probably even before then. To say that she didn't like this would be an understatement. She despised it, knew that the world was changing and he needed to change too. He needed to show some damn emotion for once, and if not in public, then just to her.

Ojka wanted to be the one to see him smile, to make him smile. She didn't care that it was selfish (hell, in this world, you _had_ to be selfish to live), she didn't care that others might have wanted to see it, she was his knight, his protector, and she lov—very deeply cared about him in a way that was entirely platonic.

She had to keep shaking those romantic notions out of her head. They'd interfere with her work as his knight. So, with the thoughts out of her mind, she set out to see him smile.

He was kneeling in front of the small pool of water in the castle when she entered, and he didn't look up. She grinned to herself when she realized he'd not heard her, but that grin dissipated when she realized she had no plan on what to do to make him smile.

She could push him into the shallow pool, but that would hurt him and probably cause him to become angered, something she didn't want. She could sneak up and scare him, but she doubted she could. He'd suffered awfully under the Danes, and she couldn't think of anything scarier. Or, she could—wait, why had she not thought of this before? 

Ojka was fairly certain that His Majesty was ticklish. She'd brushed against him enough times to notice the tensing and occasional huff of air it brought from him, and she grinned again at the idea.

Gracefully and silently she crept up to him, making sure that she calculated each movement precisely; if he turned around or noticed her presence, the entire gambit would be ruined. She finally managed to make it up to him, and when she did, she pounced.

Her fingers immediately found his sides, her nails digging into what little flesh was there, and his reaction was instantaneous. His Majesty drew in a sharp breath of air, and fell over onto his side before managing to squirm his way onto his back. 

Ojka couldn't help the fact that her grin widened as soon as she saw the faint smile playing across his lips, nor could she help the tiny giggle of her own that escaped.

“Ojka!” he gasped as her fingers continued to work, moving their way from his sides to his stomach. Actual giggles spilled from his throat, and he immediately shot his hands up to cover his mouth. That proved to be a mistake, as it allowed the knight to get her hands under his arms, and the laughter that came from that was much nicer in her opinion.

His Majesty’s laughter was loud and deep, and seemed to be just like the magic that was slowly returning, always clawing to free itself, because no matter how hard he bit his lip, the laughs kept coming.

When her hands shifted to run over his ribs, that was when he lost it. Tears pooled at his mismatched eyes, his laughs became more frequent and interspersed with gasps for air, and, not wanting to hurt him, Ojka stopped.

“What...was that?” he asked her a few minutes later, still trying to regain his bearings.

“It's called tickling, Your Majesty,” she replied. “I...wanted to see you smile.” Her own smile had now faded, and she had a deep fear in her gut that she'd damaged their relationship somehow from how he was staring at her.

And at that, he genuinely did smile, which replenished the one on her face, and he pulled her into a slight embrace, stroking the molten lava that was her hair.

“Honestly, though,” he began, “you know I'm not fond of titles. Just call me Holland. And I will be making sure you know that.”

“How, will you tickle me and add on time every time I yell out “Your Majesty” instead of “Holland” like you want?” she asked, not really meaning for it to be as snarky as it was.

“Thank you for the idea,” he said, “I knew there was a reason I took you in.”

They both laughed at that, and in his arms then, surrounded by nothing but His Maj—Holland, Ojka wished that moments like this one could go on forever.

**Author's Note:**

> This was honestly very self-indulgent, as I just finished A Conjuring of Light and wanted to write something happy and fluffy to help me cope with the ending of the series. Kudos and comments are appreciated! (Also Holland is literally bae ok bye)


End file.
